


The Power Behind the Throne

by AnnaFan



Series: Anna's fanworks [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, James Bond (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock (TV), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, International Fanworks Day 2020, Private Eye's lookalikes contest, RPF (sort of), crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:53:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22743556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaFan/pseuds/AnnaFan
Summary: In which Hurin of the Keys finds himself trapped in a Convention Centre at a breakout session on how to be more effective as "the power behind the throne".  Can anyone save him from the hell that is powerpoint presentations?  Who will prove to be the most fearsome power behind the throne of all?My international fanworks day offering for 2020 - a piece of total silliness and frivolity.
Series: Anna's fanworks [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646737
Comments: 13
Kudos: 11





	The Power Behind the Throne

Hurin of the Keys sighed. He hated these “break-out sessions”. Not only was he guarded, uptight, repressed, taciturn even, the truth was he _liked_ being guarded, uptight, repressed and taciturn. He was Gondorian, for the Valar's sake.

But now he found himself surrounded by loud, emotional, touchy-feely people. It was the frozen wastes of Angband, thawed out, then heated to boiling point and crammed into a small, featureless room in a soulless conference centre. A room designed for 20 people (theirs was clearly considered a relatively unimportant break-out session) but filled with at least 30.

“I think the thing to remember,” the blonde American woman was saying, “Is that you're there to provide the emotional backdrop to your principal. He's the action man, the intellectual. You're there to provide feelings, groundedness. To set a mood, an atmosphere. To rub goop into his weary but muscular shoulders, to scent the room with the soft aroma of your yoni.”

Hurin frowned in puzzlement. Yoni… yoni… He was not immediately familiar with this word. Quickly he thumbed through his Westron lexicon. _Pukku.. Pukku!_ His eyes widened so far he thought they might fall out of his head. He would sooner stand helpless, watching the Nazgûl circle his besieged city, receiving the news that his lord and master had just burned himself to death, than sit through much more of this. Who was this woman? 

Pepper Potts caught his expression. “Not literally, you silly old fossil. I mean, with the scent of this candle, created by my personal perfumier.” She thrust an elaborately wrapped candle across the table towards him.

Hurin was not sure this helped him. The idea of commissioning one's perfumier (who in Morgoth's name had their own perfumier?) to make a candle that smelled of… well, what this candle smelled of, struck him as even more perverse than simply relying on the smell of the original.

“I don't know why I'm here at all,” said the man with the slightly rumpled, pained expression. “I'm not a _power behind the throne_ at all, I'm a partner...” For some reason, his face reminded Hurin of the miniature in the locket the Perian Frodo had showed him – a picture of his beloved Uncle Bilbo as a young Hobbit, he'd said.

“Ah… what you're suffering from is what the youth” (the man now speaking pronounced this as _yoof_ ) “Of today call _denial_. We all felt like that when we were younger, Watson.” This new speaker was an elderly man – almost as old as Hurin. His voice was slightly nasal, his sentences clipped and short. “When I was young I thought…” (the word came out as “fort”)… “I was the hero. 'Arry Palmer at Checkpoint Charlie. Finkin' of 'Charlies', I was Charlie Crocker. 'Hang on a minute, lads, I've got a great idea.' Then you fink you'll be partners in a buddy movie – Peachy and Danny, finding riches in the Raj. But eventually you accept that power-behind-the-throne will do.” Having finished lecturing the young man who looked a bit like Bilbo, he turned to Hurin, and thrust out a hand. “Only went and forgot to introduce myself. Alfred Pennyworth...” 

“Hurin,” came the reply.

“That's a new one on me,” Alfred replied.

A rather earnest young woman with bushy red hair held out her hand. “Hermione Granger. I'm not sure why I'm here either. I mean, clearly I was part of a three-way equally important story line.” She then launched into a long monologue about how each character brought something balanced to the story line, and how pivotal a role she'd had, and various details of her adventures. Even Hurin, used as he was to council meetings under Denethor, could feel his eyelids getting heavier. Then the scheduled speaker swanned into the room, and Hurin realised things were about to get even worse – a powerpoint presentation appeared on the screen. 

Suddenly he felt an elbow in the ribs. “Fancy blowing this joint?” a feminine voice whispered in his ear. He looked round. 

A rather attractive woman looked at him. “I'm Moneypenny,” she whispered. “We've got a moment or two to sneak out unnoticed while Granger gets her powerpoint set up. Fancy a gin and tonic? Ideally made by someone who doesn't give a stuff whether it's been shaken or stirred?”

As they left, they passed a strange, gnome-like bald man in crumpled clothes coming in. Hurin gave an involuntary shudder. The man looked a bit like the sketches Frodo had done of Gollum, but exuded an air of malevolence Hurin hadn't felt since he saw the witch king upon his steed at the shattered gates of Minas Tirith.

“Oh god, we've made it out just in time,” Moneypenny said. “This has taken a turn towards RPF.” Seeing Hurin's puzzled expression, she said, “Real person fiction. Seriously twisted and kinky.” She strode down the corridor, Hurin at her side. When she was sure they were out of earshot, she uttered just two words.

“Dominic Cummings.”


End file.
